


Breakdown

by HippieGeekGirl



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Mentions of past abuse, Team as Family, Unexplained Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippieGeekGirl/pseuds/HippieGeekGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rocket's cybernetics start to malfunction, the team rushes to save him while dealing with the emotional fallout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakdown

It started off slow. A stumble here and there, a few phantom aches and pains that he couldn't explain but could ignore easily enough. It wasn't until he was curled up in one of the bunks unable to move that he started to think something was seriously wrong with him.

“Hey Rocket!” Quill's shouting was irritating at the best of times, but right now it felt like someone was stabbing him in the head with a fork. “You coming or not?”

“No. Lemme alone.”

That didn't sound like Rocket's usual bluster. “You okay, man?”

“Does it _look_ like I'm okay?”

It really didn't. Even through the pile of blankets he'd wrapped around himself, it was plain to see that he was shaking uncontrollably. “You gotta tell us what's wrong."

The growl that came from under the blankets was more savage than anything he'd heard from Rocket before. Peter stepped aside as Groot pushed past him to kneel at his friend's side, whispering something to him. Usually Rocket would always try to tough it out for him, so it was something of a shock when he basically clung to Groot's chest, eyes shut tight. “ _I don't know,_ okay? Everything hurts.”

“Damn... Gamora! We need the medkit down here.”

“ _QUIT YELLING_. Jackass.”

“Shit, sorry.”

By the time Gamora arrived, followed by a worried-looking Drax, the shaking had developed into what appeared to be a full-blown seizure. After the worst of it seemed to be over, she leaned in close to speak to him. “Rocket, can you hear me?”

“Yeah...” He was disoriented, and couldn't seem to focus his eyes very well. That in itself was scary – he'd grown used to relying on his enhanced senses. “Gah... feels like someone set me on fire.”

There was only so much they could do with a simple scanner and the half-depleted contents of a first aid kit. (Gamora had taken note of the latter with a glare at Peter.) Eventually, she'd given him enough sedative to knock him out, which was not a task anyone wanted to repeat. He tended to shake off the effects of drugs more quickly than most, and he absolutely hated anything that reminded him of his captivity.

With these thoughts in mind, Peter retreated to the flight deck. He dialed up a familiar number and Rhomann Dey's face appeared on the viewscreen.

“Quill. Didn't expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Yeah, it's kind of an emergency. You've still got Rocket's record on file, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He's sick. Or... broken, or something. We need to know what they did to him.”

“I don't have the details, but I can probably find out. Keep in touch.”

“Right.”

Conversation over, he returned to the lower deck. Rocket was still out, and if Peter hadn't known better he would have thought his occasional twitches and whimpers were just the product of bad dreams. Unfortunately things weren't that simple.

“I've done all I can for him here,” Gamora said quietly. “We need to get him back to Xandar.”

“I know, I already set the course.”

“No.” Rocket was waking up. “No no no...”

“You require aid,” Drax insisted as a flailing claw narrowly missed his face. “Xandar has the most advanced medical facilities nearby.”

“Not going...” But the protest stopped as Groot reached out a tendril to wipe a tear from his face.

“I am Groot.”

“Ow. Dammit... no fair bein' all....sad at me.”

Groot simply held him closer, an expectant look on his face.

“Yeah... fine. I'll go. You bastards would just knock me out and take me there anyway.”

“No,” Gamora said emphatically. “We will not do anything without your consent.”

“And we'll make sure no one else does either,” Peter chimed in. “We'll be with you the whole time.”

He still looked hesitant, and Peter held his breath. This had to be bringing back terrible memories, and knowing how much Rocket hated for others to see him vulnerable, there was a real chance that he'd literally rather die than admit he was scared. He sighed in relief as Rocket curled up tighter in Groot's arms. “Okay.”

 

Half a star system away, Dey was on his fourth caffeinated beverage as he scrolled through Rocket's file (which was still labeled “Subject 89P13.” He'd have to have that changed.) _Genetic manipulation... reinforced skeletal structure... neural implants..._ He understood the basic implications of what he was seeing, but there didn't seem to be any indication of what had caused him to deteriorate so suddenly. Sighing, he pulled up his comm system.

“Get me a line to the Keystone Quadrant. I need to speak with a prisoner.”

 

Rocket drifted in and out of consciousness as the Milano headed back to Xandar at full speed. His waking thoughts were scattered and brief – mostly checking to make sure Groot was still there – and his sleep was plagued with nightmares.

_Monster. Freak. Worthless._

Eventually, long after he'd lost the ability to keep track of time, the steady hum of the ship's engines ceased, and he felt familiar arms lifting him up as friendly voices whispered reassurance.

_Unique. Special. Loved._

Maybe he'd be okay after all.

 

The Xandarian capital really did have a pretty nice hospital. It was white and clean, without the cold sterile unfeeling atmosphere Peter associated with such places. Large skylights let in plenty of sunshine, and an atrium featured four large trees reaching up toward the domed glass roof. Under different circumstances, it might have been almost pleasant.

They'd been escorted there by a team of corpsmen and quickly checked into a private room while they waited. Apparently, being planetary saviors came with benefits. Rocket was already proving to be a less than compliant patient, holding onto Groot with all the strength he had left when he'd tried to put him down. Eventually he'd simply lain down with him, curling his branches around him protectively.

After what seemed like an unbearably long wait, they met with the doctors and filled them in on what they knew of Rocket's symptoms ( _severe pain, partial paralysis, seizures, loss of motor control, sensitivity to light and sound_ ). He'd panicked the first time someone in a white coat had gotten near him, but Groot's gentle presence had fortunately kept things from escalating too far. After that, they'd tried to keep him as comfortable as possible while they formulated a plan. Peter was willing to bet not many of the hospital's other residents had a 'Caution: patient may bite' sticker on their charts.

“Rocket?” He forced his eyes open at the sound of Gamora's voice. “They need to sedate you to run some tests on you. Will you allow it?”

He grimaced. “Do I have to?”

“You won't be able to keep still if you stay awake.”

He sighed. Or tried to, anyway. Even that was painful. “Yeah... might as well get it over with.” He rubbed at his face with an unsteady hand. “Can you have 'em turn down the lights in here? Hurts my eyes.”

“Of course.”

 

The tests were painless and relatively brief, but everyone was glad that he'd been unconscious for them. Peter had warned the staff about Groot's likely reaction to being separated from his best friend, and they'd resigned themselves to having a tall leafy shadow for the majority of the treatment. Eventually all they could do was wait for the results.

Peter wasn't entirely surprised when Groot wandered away from Rocket's side. This kind of thing was stressful no matter how devoted a companion you were. He found him in the atrium, looking appreciatively up at the canopy of lush vegetation that towered above them. He looked a little lost, and Peter suddenly realized just how much he depended on having Rocket around to interpret for him. He'd never explicitly told anyone what Groot was saying, but the easy communication the two of them shared more or less made things clear.

He wrapped an arm as far around him as he could reach, in a sort of awkward half-hug. “Gonna be okay, big guy.”

Returning to Rocket's room, he found that Drax had taken up Groot's place next to the still-sleeping patient. He thought he'd heard music of some kind, but the melody had trailed off when he came in.

“I used to sing to my daughter when she had difficulty falling asleep,” Drax explained, answering the question Peter hasn't quite known how to ask. “I thought he might find it comforting as well.”

“Looks like it worked.” Rocket looked to be having the most genuinely restful sleep he'd gotten since the whole ordeal had started. Some of that was undoubtedly due to the strong drugs he'd been given, but Peter liked to think he'd found at least a little bit of peace.

The quiet interlude ended when Gamora came to find them. “They're ready.”

 

A few minutes later all of them were standing in an exam room looking at a holographic representation of what the scans had revealed. Much as he tried to look at it clinically, Peter thought it was still unsettling to be able to look at his friend's kidneys. At any rate, he was supposed to be listening right now.

“We believe his cybernetic implants are sending faulty electrical signals to his brain,” explained one of the doctors, a stout dark-haired woman whose name he'd missed. “In order to fix it, we'd have to manually reset them.” She indicated the area of the scan where the components joined at a central point near the base of his skull.

“Jesus... _brain surgery_?” He'd seen the scar on the back of Rocket's head, thin and almost completely hidden by his thick fur, but somehow he'd never put two and two together. Probably because it was too horrible to think about.

“It's risky.” She didn't sugarcoat the facts, and Peter wasn't sure whether to be angry or thankful for it. “With the stress his body is under, there's no guarantee he'd survive it. Or that it would be worth the danger.”

If looks could kill, the combined glares from the four of them would have left a smoking crater in the floor. Gamora crossed her arms. “Explain.”

She answered in the same blunt tone. “To be frank, we've never seen a case like this. There's no indication of what caused the implants to fail, which means there's no way to ensure this won't happen again. It may simply be that your friend is reaching the end of his lifespan.”

Peter clinched his fists, remembering the offhanded comment made what seemed like a lifetime ago. Yeah, he was definitely going with the angry option. Gamora rested a hand on his shoulder to steady him, though she didn't really look any less pissed off herself. “Have you spoken with him about this?”

The two doctors exchanged glances. “He's-”

“You have got to be kidding me. I _know_ he's sedated. _Wake him_.” He shook off Gamora's hand and started pacing. “We don't have the right to make decisions for him and you do not get to cut open someone's head and _reboot their nervous system_ without asking!”

The anger had reached a tipping point, and he knew he needed to get out of the room before he did something stupid. He made it as far as the corridor, kicking a half-empty trash can before sinking to the floor and pulling his knees to his chest. After a few moments, Gamora took a seat on the floor next to him. She stayed silent, offering quiet support instead of words.

“Shit, I shouldn't have snapped like that. They're trying to help.”

“You were ensuring the well-being of a friend. That's nothing to be ashamed of. I believe Drax and Groot are making it... _extremely_ clear that no one is to touch him without his permission.”

He leaned against her slightly. “I just... I feel responsible. Promised I'd keep an eye on him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, as you haven't let anyone get robbed or shot, I don't think you're doing too badly.”

“Not funny.” His small smile indicated otherwise as he sat up, trying to ignore the wet patch he'd left on her shirt. “I just really, _really_ hate hospitals.”

 

When they told him, Rocket didn't even argue. And that scared the hell out of everyone, because he should have been furious. He should have been swearing and threatening people with grievous bodily harm if they so much as laid a finger on him. All he'd done was give a weak but clear “yes” to go ahead with the surgery, which meant he was either still woozy from the sedation or he was getting worse.

Groot had wanted to stay with him the whole time, but of course they weren't letting anyone watch the actual procedure. They passed the hours talking quietly, bringing snacks and drinks, keeping watch while the others tried to rest... all the terrible niceties Peter remembered from years ago.

“This wait is interminable,” Drax muttered.

“Agreed.” Gamora leaned back in her chair, playing with the small switchblade she'd brought with her. She didn't carry as many weapons as she used to, but she'd been trained to always have something on hand to defend herself with and it was one of the few lessons from her childhood that she still found useful. “Though I'd rather they took their time with such a delicate process.”

It felt as though years had passed before the surgeons filled them in on how things had gone. No major complications, everything checked out okay at least on paper, still no way to tell if the problem would reoccur. It wasn't until they saw him open his eyes in the recovery ward that they could all breathe again.

It wasn't the first time he'd been taken apart, but it was the first time he felt glad to be put back together again.

 

A few days later, everyone was more than ready to get out of the hospital. Rocket still had a long recovery ahead of him, but everyone agreed it would be better for him to do it back on the Milano, where he'd feel more at ease. Dey watched their departure from one of the windows overlooking the atrium, along with the dark-haired doctor.

“Time for you to be leaving, too.” She held out her wrists as he slipped the cuffs around them. “Your cooperation in resolving this matter will be noted in your record.”

She looked back at the window as laughter-filled conversation drifted up from below.

“ _We must feast to celebrate our friend's return to health.”_

“ _Do we even have any feast-worthy food? We gotta stop lettin' Quill do the shopping.”_

“ _Hey! I did manage to feed myself before I met you guys, you know.”_

“ _Managed, sure. I'm surprised you never got scurvy.”_

“ _Groot, he's never gonna get back on his feet if you don't stop carrying him.”_

“ _I am Groot.”_

“ _Hah, no way. I could get used to this.”_

“That's not necessary,” she said as she took one last look at her subject – _Rocket,_ she told herself, _he has a name now._ “I accepted the consequences of my actions long ago.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Recovery](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2285802) by [HippieGeekGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippieGeekGirl/pseuds/HippieGeekGirl)




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